People curse 'em. They say, curse of our time. But I say, aint it amazing? Aint it amazing there's this thing that exists so everyone can jump in and travel where they please? Can't imagine a world without motors. There's nothing finer, if you ask me, there's nothing that shows better that you're alive and humming and living in this present day and age than when you squeeze the juice and burn up road and there are the signs and the lights and the white lines all so it can happen and everything's moving, going. Where are we? Gravesend, 3 miles. We're coming up to Gravesend. Or when you're cruising through town on a hot day with your shades on and your arm dangling out the window and a ciggy dangling from the end of your arm and some skirt to clock on the pavement. Ridin' along in my automobeeel...
And I always say it aint the motor by itself, it's the combination of man and motor, it's the intercombustion. A motor aint nothing without a man to tweak its buttons. And sometimes a man aint nothing without a motor, I see that. Motorvation, I call it. Fit the car to the customer, that's what I say. I aint just a car dealer, I'm a car tailor. I'm an ace mechanic too, as it happens, I know engines like you know your wife's fanny, but I've moved on from them days. A good motor's like a good suit.
He said, Tm sorry, Mr Dodds, I'm very sorry to hear it.'
Oily twat.
I said, 'Business as usual, Mr Hussein. Want to run it round the block?'
So we got in the Merc.
He said, 'When's the funeral?'
I said, 'Thursday. Engine's good as new. Paintwork and trim's all custom.'
He said, 'A sad blow, Mr Dodds, the worst, losing a father.'
I said, 'Front suspension needs a peek, I'll see to that. Shift's smooth as cream, aint it?'
He thinks, Jack's dead so I'm an easy touch.
I said, 'Usual guarantees.'
We went along Jamaica Road, doubling back at the Rotherhithe roundabout.
He said, 'Let me think about it.'
Which means he might not buy. Which means he's getting tired of Kath. Which means I aint got no hold and I don't get no extra.
And I'm already a grand under.
We came back down Abbey Street and parked by the kerb and we sat there for a bit. But you always let the punter think about it.
I said, 'I've had lots of inquiries, Mr H, but - you know me - your first pickings.'
He said, 'Say - till Friday. Kathy'll go to the funeral of course.'
I said, 'You asking or telling?'
Puts a dampener on it, does it, if your doxy has to wear a long face? Has to traipse off and pay respects.
He said, 'Asking.'
I said, 'It's up to her.' Which means it's up to him. 'It's a beautiful motor, Mr H. And it's you all over. I don't even know if I'll go myself.'
He looks at me all confused. He thinks, Jack's dead so I'm a pushover.
I said, 'You mean Kath aint ever told you? She aint ever said?'
It's the best thing that's ever been invented. If it hadn't been invented we'd've had to invent it. And it aint just a seat on wheels. It's a workmate. It's a mate. It won't ask no questions, it won't tell no lies. It's somewhere you can be and be who you are. If you aint got no place to call your own, you're okay in a motor.
Gravesend
Vie settles down in the front, now he's not holding the box, trying out the seat position with the control on the door panel.
'You quite comfy there, Vie?' Lenny says.
'Fine,' Vie says.
'All seats power-adjustable,' Vince says. 'Upholstery's custom.'
'But Vie aint no customer,' Lenny says.
'Don't be so sure,' Vie says. 'How much you asking, Vince?' And Vince turns his head sudden, falling for it, before Vie chuckles and winks. Straight face has Vie.
I'd say Vic's looking the best of us all, by a long chalk. I'd say if you took Lenny, Vie and me, any one'd give Vie a five-year advantage. It's a fair bet he'll be the last of us to go. Excluding Vince, that is, and he aint no spring chicken. And the first of us to go, the next of us to go, will be—
'Just testing,' Vie says.
Neat, straight, toned-up sort of a face, and I reckon he's a once-a-fortnight haircut man. Maybe it's working with stiffs, keeps a man in the pink, by contrast. Maybe it's all them preservatives. Or maybe it's having been in the Navy. Fresh air and briny. It was me, Jack and Lenny got the dust and the flies.
But it's not just the way he looks, it's the way he is. Like no one's going to catch Vie Tucker out. Like no one's arguing that he should be sitting there in the front seat, box or no box, as if he's the leader of this little expedition. Steady as she goes, Vincey. Aye aye, skipper. I reckon that must come from the job too. It puts things in perspective, keeps a man on an even keel. And of course it wouldn't do in his line of business to be short on dignity.
Dignity, that's the word, dignity.
Vie Tucker, at your disposal.
He sinks back in the seat and half shuts his eyes.
Lenny says, 'You aint said yet, Raysy.'
'Said what?'
'If you think Sue'd show up. To see you off.'
I say, 'It's immaterial, aint it? It's immaterial.'
'Even so.' Lenny's talking softly, like he thinks Vie might be nodding off. 'You've got to have someone.'
He means: not having Carol. Or anyone.
I say, 'Australia's a long way.'
'Aint as far as from here to the next world.'
I look at Lenny.
'What next world?' Vince says.
'Manner of speaking, Big Boy,' Lenny says.
Vince says, 'It's further than Sydenham though.'
Because that's where Carol lives now, where she moved in. Barry Stokes, Household and Electrical.
Lenny says, 'Suppose,' like he hasn't heard Vincey.
Vince says, 'We could pop in on the way back, eh Raysy? On the South Circular.'
Vince is perking up, like he's remembering he's the nipper of the party.
Lenny says, 'Suppose. Suppose you had some special request, suppose you had some special daft request like Jack here. Who's going to do it?'
'I aint going to have no daft request.'
'Who knows?'
I think: Amy aint here.
'Well,' I say, looking at Lenny, 'there's you.'
Lenny looks at me. His face is all squashy. Must be working with fruit and veg. You can tell it's the answer he wanted to hear, but then he shakes his head, gently, smiling. 'You want to think twice about that? Or you planning on something quick?'
Vince says, 'Don't worry, Raysy, I'll be around. What do you want - Merc or Rolls?'
Mr Tact.
Lenny says, 'Eyes on the road, or none of us'll be around.'
Vince says, 'And where do you want to be chucked?'
Vie coughs and stirs in his seat, he aint kipped off. He says, 'You can go there now, can't you, Raysy? Go to Australia, see Sue. See those grandchildren you're supposed to have. What's stopping you? You're a free man.'
He turns round and looks at me. Like he's got me out of one corner just to steer me into another.
'Small matter of the fare, Vie,' I say.
Vie says, 'Put one of your bets on. I seem to recall it working before.'
I look at Vie. It's a straight face. What's he mean: free man?
'That's right,' Vince says. 'You could see a bit of the world. Live a little. Stop off in Bangkok.'
Vince's head is cocked towards the driving mirror.
He says, 'But just out of interest, where d'you want to be chucked?'
It's like he's a taxi-driver. So where to, guv?
'I aint particular. I'll leave that to Vie.'
But Vie doesn't say anything. He doesn't say, 'Whenever you're ready, Ray,' then give his little one-finger, undertaker's salute. And I get this sudden picture of me in a car, in a cardboard box, in a big car, with just Vince driving, just Vince in his tie and cuff-links and dark glasses.
I sold him the yard, for peanuts. And he sold it for a packet.